Page 29 of The Rogue’s Countess

“That, I sincerely doubt.” Phoebe laughed with an amusement she didn’t feel, and Constance eyed her with curiosity.

“Why would you think otherwise?” At her friend’s question, Phoebe rolled her shoulders in a small shrug.

“Lord Chelmsford thinks I am taking advantage of his mother’s generosity.”

“What?” Constance gasped softly as she pulled Phoebe slightly away from her aunt and the countess. “What in heaven’s name would make the man even consider such a thing?”

“It’s of no consequence,” Phoebe murmured as she saw Constance’s husband studying his wife intently, his mouth tight with irritation.

“Of course it is,” Constance whispered. “I’m flabbergasted Gideon would think badly of you.”

“I care little as to Lord Chelmsford’s opinion of me. However, I intend to find other employment to avoid causing a rift between the marchioness and her son. I found several possibilities in the Times this afternoon and will post a response to them in the morning.” Phoebe’s words caused a look of distress to settle on Constance’s features.

“Oh, but you mustn’t leave, “ the countess exclaimed beneath her breath. “I know Gideon can be stubborn, but he’s a good man. I’m certain the two of you are perfect for each other.”

At her friend’s firm declaration, Phoebe stared at the woman in horror, then jumped at the sound of the earl, clearing his throat beside her. Phoebe darted a look in his direction, and his anger was plainly visible. Constance frowned as she met her husband’s gaze before she tipped her chin upward in a look of defiance.

As the couple glared at each other, Pendleton stepped into the room to announce dinner. Phoebe released a small breath of relief as she stepped away from the couple, who were dueling silently with each other. Lady Wrotham had already paired off her guests, and Phoebe smiled at the duke as he strode quickly in her direction. Gideon took a step toward her as well, but as if suddenly realizing the duke was headed for Phoebe, he stopped in mid-stride.

From across the distance between them, her heart sank at the disparaging look on Gideon’s face. As the duke halted in front of her and offered his arm to her, Phoebe forced a smile to her lips and allowed the man to lead her into dinner. As they walked out of the parlor, the back of her neck tingled, and she knew Gideon was watching her.

Although she couldn’t see his face, she knew precisely what he was thinking of her at the moment. Gideon was already convinced she’d thrown herself at the duke. She’d done nothing of the sort, but if the Earl of Chelmsford thought she was a ne’er-do-well, so be it. Despite having resisted the idea of attending the dinner party, Phoebe decided to enjoy herself before she found a new position then retired to the country.

Chapter 8

The silence in the carriage was fraught with tension, and Constance stared out the window, her body stiff and unmoving. Beside her, Lucien had not spoken a word to her since overhearing her conversation with Phoebe. She should have known better than to say anything to her friend about Gideon with Lucien present, but she’d been so startled by Phoebe’s decision to find another position, she’d spoken without thinking.

Now the question was how to deal with Lucien. It was apparent he was angry with her for meddling. While she knew how much he disliked her interfering in the lives of her friends. Phoebe was different. If Lucien knew the circumstances the woman had been in when Constance had found her in Madame Sabine’s shop, she was confident she could make him see helping Phoebe had been the right decision.

The carriage rocked to a halt, and Lucien stepped out of the carriage then offered his hand to assist her out of the vehicle. Almost immediately, he dropped her hand, and a vise tightened around her chest. He was angrier than she’d realized. The moment they entered the house, Lucien handed his hat and gloves to Carleton in several sharp movements then disappeared into the library. Constance hesitated as she considered following him. Instead, she decided to let his anger subside before they spoke.

The memory of their argument two months ago made her wince. No, the best course of action was to leave Lucien be until his anger subsided. Heaven help her if she were to confess in an argument that she’d deliberately invoked the an dara sealladh for the express purpose of learning more about Lady Helstone.

Slowly climbing the stairs, Constance sighed as she wished once more that she’d held her tongue this evening. Although she didn’t like to hide things from Lucien, there were times when she did so simply because it was the best thing for their marriage. Daisy, her lady’s maid, was waiting on her when she entered her room. With a smile, the young woman helped Constance out of her evening gown.

“Did you have a nice time, my lady?”

“I did,” she replied quietly, then sighed. “At least I did until I managed to upset Lord Lyndham.”

“Oh, dear, my lady. Does this mean you’ve had a falling out?”

“I’m afraid so, but I’m certain he will forgive me eventually,” Constance said quietly, but she heard the lack of conviction in her voice.

The door to the corridor between her and Lucien’s room opened as Daisy was helping her slip on her robe. Anger made the scar on her husband’s face stand out more than usual. Constance quickly dismissed Daisy as she tightened the sash of her robe. She had expected Lucien to rain fire down on her head the moment they were alone, but he remained silent as he studied her.

Worried she might say something cruel as she had the last time they’d fought, Constance didn’t say a word as she sank down onto the stool in front of her dressing table. She kept her eye on Lucien in the mirror, and when he still didn’t speak, she became uneasy. Even though Lucien no longer believed in the Blakemore curse, she knew it was always in the back of his mind.

For years he’d believed his anger would be the catalyst for harming someone he loved. Logically, he might understand the curse didn’t exist, but Constance knew it was always something he considered when he became angry. Had her actions where Phoebe was concerned aroused such deep anger in Lucien that he was afraid to speak to her?

Deciding it was best to wait until he spoke, Constance reached for a bottle of emollient. She would bite her tongue until he finished expressing his displeasure. Afterward, she would try to explain what she’d seen. Constance dropped her gaze for a moment as she opened the glass bottle and dipped her fingers into the cream. Rubbing the emollient into her hands, she looked into the mirror again and saw the door to the corridor between their rooms, closing quietly behind Lucien.

Stunned, she stared at the closed door. Lucien had shut himself off emotionally to her several times since they’d first met. But the only other time he’d ever walked away from her had been the day he’d discovered she was pregnant with Isabel. Inside her chest, her heart ached as if someone had tried to yank it out of her. How was she going to heal the breach between them this time? A soft knock on her bedroom door made her grant entry with a quietly spoken invitation.

Her gaze remained fixed on the door Lucien had just passed through until her bedroom door closed, and she jerked her head toward the sound. Aurora Blakemore, Dowager Countess of Lyndham, stood just inside the room, studying Constance with the same piercing blue gaze as her grandson.

Powdery white hair piled atop her head in a soft-shaped bun that flattered her regal features, Lucien’s grandmother was a tall woman. She was almost the same height as her grandson. Despite a difficult illness a month ago, her blue eyes were still bright with energy. As the long-time matriarch of the family, the dowager countess had become very dear to Constance.

When Lucien’s grandmother had become sick, she and Lucien had both been deeply worried about her. Although she still looked as if she wasn’t feeling quite herself, the dowager’s ability to fill a room with her presence had not diminished. Blue-veined hands resting on the eagle’s head that sat on top of her cane, Aurora studied Constance in silence for a moment. The dowager’s brow furrowed with either worry or discomfort as she pointed to one of the chairs at the fireplace.